Tonight, on the other hand, he seems to have the intention to use every single piece on my body. As if he guesses my thoughts, he glides a piece down my spine and stops at the small of my back, letting the remaining coolness trickle down. I suck a breath in through my teeth.
“I want to see the look on your face, Ky.”
Another piece of ice slides between my thighs. This time, he holds it against my center until I reach both hands behind me, searching for anything to hold on to. One hand finds his hip while the other grips his dick, feeling it strain against my palm.
“Fuck,” he says in a low voice. “Turn around.”
I know what he’s about to do the second he grabs a small handful from within the ice pail. He begins to kneel down in front of me, but I stop him and bring his hand to my mouth. Keeping my chocolate brown eyes glued to his, I wrap my lips around the ice, my fingers clenching on to his wrists as I slide each piece inside my mouth.
Before he can stop me and before the frigid sensation is gone, I skim down the length of his slick body until my knees touch the warm shower floor. As soon as I take his cock into my mouth, gripping his hips hard as I adjust to his size combined with the ice cubes, he cups the sides of my face, gazing down at me.
“God, Kylie,” he groans as I move my mouth faster, harder around his cock.
Once the ice melts away, I grab more, but my lips never break contact with his body. I touch the ice directly to his erection, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat as I trace cold circles around him.
Finally, his hands knot into my hair. “This is dangerous,” he warns.
I glide my tongue over all the spots where the ice has just melted, and then I lean back, staring up at him. His blue eyes are soft with desire and fatigue.
“I want it to be dangerous,” I whisper before lowering my lips.
He holds my face between his hands, massaging my temples, as my mouth explores him while my fingers continue to dig into his hips. He moans when I encircle my hands around the base of his cock, pushing and pulling him to me, and when he releases, he says my name. He’s still saying it as he pulls me to my feet.
He wraps my legs around his toned waist and pins me roughly to the shower wall. “Let me touch you, beautiful.”
I clutch on to his shoulders, nodding. “God, I need you to.”
He pushes his fingers between my slick folds, thrusting two in and out of me. As he moves his hand in a quick tempo, his palm teases my clit until I climax.
Even then, he’s left me begging for more. “I want all of you,” I whisper frantically against his mouth. “I fucking need you.”
He doesn’t say a word as he carries me into the other room to the king-size bed, our bodies still dripping wet from the shower, but his eyes tell me exactly what I want to know.
He needs me just as much.
***
A few hours later, we’re still awake as the first glimpse of the Albuquerque sunlight creeps into our room. The side of my face is pressed against his chest, and I listen to him quietly hum something that sounds like an off-key Chevelle-inspired medley featuring “Send the Pain Below” and “Wonder What’s Next.” He adds in words every once in a while I rub my thumb and forefinger in gentle circles over the All Does Not End Well tattoo on his neck.
Sleepy laughter bubbles from my chest as I prop myself up on my elbow. “You’re the worst singer I’ve ever fucking heard.”
“The worst?” He shoots me a look of disbelief. “I’m sure you’ve heard worse.”
I shake my head slowly. He caresses my shoulder and the curve of my ass, causing a delicious tingle to spread through my body, as he guides me on top of him.
“Sorry, McCrae,” I say. I move my hips against him, and he slides his fingers from my shoulder down to my side, so he can grip my ass with both hands. “Stick to using your hands.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he sucks on the tip of his thumb before pressing it to my clit, and then I’m blissfully lost.
***
As much as my body and brain is desperate for some rest, I get very little. Heidi surprises me by showing up at my room at 9:47 a.m. She’s dressed for the day and wearing a satisfied grin that can only come from one thing—sleep.
“Where’s Wyatt?” she questions, trying to peek inside my room.
I ease the door closed until nothing more than a tiny sliver of light is between us. She narrows her eyes but doesn’t try to sneak another glance.
“You look...perky today.” And I’m not talking about her bright pink top or her even brighter pink lipstick. This is the most well-rested I’ve seen Heidi since we met up in New Orleans a week ago.
Apparently, rooming with Cal is good for her.
“Sleep is your friend,” she says.
I roll my eyes up toward the ceiling. “Thanks for the pointer, Lucas.”
“I’m going out for breakfast,” she announces. When I give her a blatantly unexpressive look, she clenches her teeth into a pleading smile. “You’re hungry, right?”
Actually, I’m starving, but I’m tired, too. I spent fourteen hours inside of the Suburban yesterday. Not to mention, most of the night was spent with Wyatt inside me. I should sleep. I should turn her down and take my ass right back to that amazing memory foam mattress and the naked man currently lying on it.
But then my stomach makes a noise, and Heidi nods her head slowly, her brown waves swooshing back and forth over her face. “There’s a place next door. Just go throw on some pants, and we can walk over.”
Groaning, I glance down at the Motionless In White band tee I threw on just before I answered the door. I’m braless and pantyless, and there’s no way I’m leaving my room without a shower. “Give me twenty, okay?”
“Any longer and I’ll leave your ass,” she warns as she heads toward the elevator.
I don’t buy that for a second. I take as many shortcuts as possible to get dressed, including a shower that’s so quick I’m not sure the pipes had time to heat up to their full potential. As I drag another band tee over my head—the colorful Three Days Grace shirt that’s by far one of my favorites—Wyatt wakes up.
He sits up in bed and watches me intensely, his vivid blue eyes following my every movement. As I adjust my thong, he releases a string of curse words. “Get back in bed, Kylie.”
I give him a pointed look and shake my head. “You’d think you’ve never watched a woman get dressed.” The instant the words tumble from my lips, I regret them. Wyatt has watched plenty of women, including myself, get dressed. Dropping my gaze to the carpet, I run my tongue over my lips. “I’ve got to say, you’re freaking me out with all the staring, McCrae.”
“Because I want to wrap that fucking thong around your wrists and keep you here with me.”
Despite the harshness of his words, his voice is tender, and I’m a little shaky as I squat down to poke my legs into a pair of ripped-up jeans. As I stand and button them, pleased that this pair actually fits without cutting into my girlie parts, I slide my bare feet into a pair of pink Chuck Taylors.
“Where are you headed?” he asks.
“Breakfast with Heidi.”
He makes a sleepy noise and stretches his arms over his head. The sheets pool around his waist, dropping to show off his tan, muscular V. “I want you for breakfast.”
My mouth goes dry because I want him too, but I turn away from him as I gather my hair into a short ponytail on top of my head. I’ve composed myself by the time I face him again. Leaning my butt against the cherry wood TV stand, I cock my head to the side. “You’ll be here when I come back?” There’s a hopeful edge to my voice, but what’s surprising is the way the question comes out so easily. Then, I realize that for the first time, this screwed-up thing between us seems like a real relationship.